


Regrets

by pupeez4eva



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-05-08 05:13:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14687208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pupeez4eva/pseuds/pupeez4eva
Summary: "She didn’t know what to do. A part of her wanted to block it all out, to go on living as she had before. But things had changed. It had been easy to explain away before — the pyjamas were a misunderstanding, she was jumping to conclusions — but now, she knew."(After Gordon kicks Aaron out, Sandra finds herself unsure of what to do).





	Regrets

The house was quiet now — _too_ quiet, if you asked her. That, coupled with her inability to fall asleep, left her with too many thoughts running through her head, and nothing to distract her from them.

 

Her face still throbbed from where Aaron had hit her, and she was sure there would be a bruise there the next morning. She wasn’t looking forward to the pain, or having to explain what had happened when her friends started asking questions — but somehow she couldn’t bring herself to be angry at her step-son. All she could remember was that look in her eyes, that fear and desperation. She’d never seen him that way before. She’d known something was wrong, and she’d still let Gordon throw him out. She hadn’t even tried to stop him.

 

She told herself that this wasn’t anything new. Aaron had been acting out for a long time now, going more and more off the rails as the days went on. She’d _tried_ to be a mother to him, when his own mum hadn’t even bothered, but everyone had their limits. Maybe he’d had a bad day, maybe he was upset over something else, but that was no excuse to take his anger out on her.

 

She repeated these words over and over, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t forget those angry, desperate words he’d uttered to his father: _“You can’t do that to me anymore.”_

 

She lay still, staring at the ceiling, and remembered finding Aaron’s pyjamas in the garbage all those years ago. She remembered the way her stomach had twisted, how she’d been hit by a sense of dark uncertainty that she’d quickly pushed away, because she was terrified of what she might find if she didn’t let go. That same uncertainty seemed to engulf her now, and all she could think about was the fear in Aaron’s voice. The way he’d looked at her before he’d lashed out, like a scared, cornered animal. 

 

_‘Stop it. You don’t know what happened.’_

 

Didn’t she? Hadn’t a part of her always suspected, ever since she’d found those pyjamas? 

 

_‘You’re jumping to conclusions. They could have just had a fight. Gordon would never hurt his own son like that.’_

 

He could be controlling though, and prone to outbursts of anger. He’d lost control with Aaron before, to the point where she had been afraid they’d come to blows.

 

_‘But they didn’t. He never hit him.’_

 

No. Because he was doing something so much worse.

 

Gordon shifted on the bed next to her, and Sandra tensed, feeling her stomach clench in a way that made her feel sick. This was her husband. He was far from perfect, but to do what she was thinking about, you’d truly have to be a monster. He wasn’t a _monster._

 

_‘Aaron was terrified.’_

 

Her hands clenched around the bedsheets. She didn’t know what to do. A part of her wanted to block it all out, to go on living as she had before. But things had changed. It had been easy to explain away before — the pyjamas were a misunderstanding, she was jumping to conclusions — but now, she _knew._

 

She needed to tell someone. The police. His mum. _Aaron._ She could find him, talk to him, find out the truth — 

 

Except, he was gone now. Gordon had thrown him out. 

 

She could be wrong. She didn’t know for _sure_ did she? Aaron had sounded afraid, had looked afraid, but what she was thinking of… _God,_ what she was thinking of was truly the worst thing ever. If she went to the police, then what? If her suspicions were correct, and her husband was truly capable of such brutality, then was she any better? She’d been ignoring it for years. Hadn’t picked up on any of the signs. She’d be one of those women you sometimes saw on those crime shows, the wives of murderers and rapists, who people looked at and said, “How could she have not known if it was going on under her own roof?” 

 

And if she was wrong — if she was wrong, she’d be condemning an innocent man. Her own _husband._ Her daughter’s father.

 

She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her head pound. She could sense Gordon lying beside her, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

 

_‘You’re wrong. You’ve made a mistake. He isn’t capable of doing something like that.’_

 

_‘God, what do I do?’_

 

Aaron was gone. He was far away from all of this. He wasn’t her responsibility anymore, but Liv was. Going to the police, accusing her father of something like that when she wasn’t even sure about what had happened, would only hurt her daughter.

 

_‘You’re wrong. You’re wrong.’_

 

She thought about Aaron. Meeting him for the first time. Seeing him hold his little sister. Playing with Liv in the backyard. The fear in his eyes as he lashed out at her, the fear in his voice when he yelled at his father.

 

How he’d used to call her Mum.

 

_‘God, please let me be wrong.’_

 

…

 

She stayed with Gordon for a little while. Things were never quite the same, not when she had those ever-present doubts in her mind. She could push them away, but never truly block them out, not like she’d been able to before.

 

She stayed, for her daughter’s sake, but sometimes looking at him made her stomach turn. But then suddenly _staying for her daughter’s sake_ didn’t seem to cut it anymore, not when Liv was getting gobby, starting to talking back, starting to resemble her big brother in a way that terrified Sandra. These days, memories of that night seemed all the more clear. She remembered how scared Aaron had looked, and then she imagined Liv looking at her the same way, and thought, _‘Oh god, what have I done?’_

 

She went upstairs and packed up their things.


End file.
